It's Comedy (And Tragedy)
by Desert's Lily
Summary: Johnny finally escapes the Saint


His hands shook as he clung desperately to the sink in the dingy bathroom. Johnny couldn't bring himself to look up; to look at what he'd become. For the first time, he truly regretted leaving , Johnny managed to look up and he was disgusted by what he saw. Dead eyes sunk into gaunt cheeks and paper white skin. Had this really been what he'd become? His skin was slathered in a layer of sweat, a reminder of whatever cocktail of drugs he had pumping through his system in an attempt to chase that ever fading high. Johnny wasn't sure when exactly this had become his life.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw him. The Saint he had dedicated his life to. The Saint he had given up everything for. Even the girl of his dreams had become nothing to Johnny in comparision to St Jimmy; now just some nameless face in his mind. He longed to be in her arms again. He wanted to beg her for forgiveness; beg her to forgive him for everything but Jimmy wouldn't let him. Jimmy never let him and Jimmy's word was Johnny's law. The only law he ever obeyed. Jimmy said "Jump!", Johnny asked "How high?". Jimmy said "Take this.", Johnny said "Gladly."

As always, the Saint appeared in wild perfection. Danger in his eyes, he offered Johnny that reassuring smile that always made him weak. An angel corrupted by rock and roll was the only way Johnny could fairly and truly describe St Jimmy. An angel desperate to embrace the Jesus of Suburbia. Johnny had foolishly never tried to fight him when it came to that. No, he had just given in. In hindsight, he wanted to scream at himself for it. The person Jimmy had made him barely felt like a person anymore. He felt like a puppet. The silence between them both wad deafening. Eventually, Johnny brought himself to speak. "I'm done."

The Saint tilted his head to the side at that, confused - as if he couldn't understand why Johnny would ever defy him. Tough, it partially made sense. johnny had never tried to defy him before. "Why?" His voice was sweeter than any candy in the world. It was always temptation vocalised. He knew how to play Johnny like a fiddle.

Johnny paused at that, fighting every instinct that told him to give in. He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't live as St Jimmy's plaything anymore. "I'm suffocating here. Partying and taking whatever poison you concoct for me every night...I can't do this anymore." Johnny couldn't even turn to face the Saint. Instead, he just stared at him in the mirror. Jimmy's figure seemed to flicker, fading slightly every time Johnny blinked.

Jimmy's face turned truly sour at that. Evidently, he wasn't pleased by Johnny's outright defiance. Neither of them had truly been expecting that. "Think about this, Johnny. I _need_ you. You _need_ me." He tried to reason.

Johnny desperately tried to hold his ground. "No." He whispered. "No." He repeated with far conviction, all but roaring the word. Still, he wouldn't turn to face the Saint.

"You can't ecape me." Jimmy was closer now, looming over Johnny as he whispered in his ear. Fear and uncertainy began to flood the most vulnerable of the two. "I'm inevitable." He reminded him.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, hating how right his Saint was. St Jimmy was a part of him now. A part he knew it would take drastic measures to escape from. Now he turned to face his Saint. Johnny pointed his hand at Jimmy before freezing...Where had the gun come from? Was it real? Was any of this real?

Jimmy seemed nervous now. "Put down the gun." He demanded, feinting a neutral expression of his face. Though, it quickly broke when Johnny didn't put down the gun. "Think about this! Please!" Johnny frowned at that. He had never seen St Jimmy like this; the man he had deemed perfection personified looked unbelievably flawed and vulnerable for the first time. "You don't want to do this to me!" He insisted but didn't sound entirely sure.

Johnny clicked the safety off of the gun. He wasn't sure where exactly he'd learnt to do that. "You have no idea what I want! You know nothing about me!" His hand shook as he kept the gun raised. Je was really going to do this. He couldn't believe it. For the first time since he left Jingletown, Johnny was going to take back control. It was more of a high than any of the drugs had ever been. "I'm sorry." Johnny pulled the trigger.

The world seemed to grow numb after that. Johnny couldn't quite remember what happened next. Just that Jimmy said nothing else. The Saint lay motionless on the floor, a bloody halo surrounding him. It was the most peaceful Johnny had ever seen him. He dropped to his knees, letting the gun clatter to the floor. "I'm sorry." Johnny echoed his previous statement. "You left me no choice." He reached a hand to touch the body but his hand met air instead of flesh...What was going on? Johnny blinked and the body was gone. There was no gun, no blood, and no body. Had any of it been real? Had his Saint been real? He wasn't so sure anymore.

The more he thought about it, the more unsettled Johnny grew. Had he been Jimmy all along? Had it just been an identity for him to hide behind? The Saint was just his way of coping with life. Now he was gone. Just like Will and Tunny were gone. Just like Whatsername was gone. The Jesus of Suburbia was truly alone.

He was free.


End file.
